


Demon Summoning Bologna Sandwich

by HBossWrites



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Accidental Demon Summoning, Andy's Last Name is Really Kaboom!, Demonic Bologna Sandwich, Demonic Tex, Gen, Random Writing Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10495596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HBossWrites/pseuds/HBossWrites
Summary: While putting condiments on his sandwich, Church accidentally summons a demon. This is not the worst part of his day.





	

Church is the unluckiest son of a bitch to have ever lived. In the history of forever.

Seriously, how does a person get blown up by a coworker and _fired_ for their coworker blowing them up? It’s not like he’d ever been able to control the train wreck that was Caboose. It’s not like Caboose was ever supposed to be his responsibility in the first place.

And now he was in deep shit.

His life existed on a precarious balance of money vs expense. Mostly it meant Church worked every moment possible, every extra shift, and kept his purchases to things like on sale chips, off brand chili, and the weird grocery store brand lunchmeat by the deli counter. The extra ten to twenty bucks buying name brand was legitimately enough to break him if he didn’t watch himself.

It wasn’t important though, because if he didn’t find a new job _today_ he’d be evicted at the end of the month. Sure, he might be able to squeeze three months out of the place, just by riding the eviction system, but he’d really prefer to not have to fuck his rental history up like that.

Muttering under his breath about fucking stupid Caboose trying to fucking kill everyone (and how do you even cause an explosion with a goddamned _squeegee_?), Church pulled out the remnants of his bread and set about making himself a sandwich with the meager contents of his fridge.

He had one last normal piece of bread and the ass ends, two slices of off brand bologna, a quarter of a bottle of ketchup, a mostly full bottle of mustard, the barest scrapings of ‘mayonnaise product’, and a handful of greasy ‘kettle style potato flakes’ that barely managed to be potato chips.

Jesus, he needed to get more food…

With a sigh, Church slapped down the ass ends of the bread on a plate, put down the bologna, squirted a thick curve of ketchup, a curve of mustard onto the ‘meat’, and grabbed a knife to scrape out the last of the ‘mayonaisse product’. He hadn’t intended to make a pattern, but when the ketchup went down in a perfect swipe, he figured it couldn’t hurt anything. Something should be good about today, if only ‘hey I made a weird pattern in my sandwich and I didn’t hate it’. When he was done, he’d created a weird looking line triangle out of the condiments and laughed.

As soon as he finished the swipe of mayo, Church smelled smoke.

“Fuck me, man! If this place is on fire I fucking quit!”

He swung himself around, ready to unplug whatever managed to catch on fire, only to see a specter in black behind him, floating and staring at him with dark orange eyes. Wisps of black smoke came off of its body as it hovered, its mouth was wide and filled with giant sharp teeth. It looked at him for a moment, then made a deep, throaty growling sound.

Church, for the first time in his entire life, was speechless.

The…thing looked over his shoulder and then back to him. It didn’t say a word, didn’t move, but Church got the distinct impression it was either laughing at him or going to rip his balls off. He slowly reached for the plate with the sandwich, aware that the creature’s eyes were back on him, and held it out.

It craned its neck a little bit closer, and Church watched the eyes disappear and reappear momentarily.

_Did it…blink?_

A strange noise caught Church’s attention. The sound was like a low-level rumbling, it kind of reminded him of a thunder storm.

Nervously, Church flipped the top of the sandwich on and held the plate out to the thing that was _still fucking hovering **what the shit?!?!**_ and tried not to piss himself in terror. The creature’s arms ( _holy shit those things are MASSIVE!!!_ ) stretched out, and Church belatedly realized that the creature was too far away to take the plate.

_‘I fucking hate my life.’_

Church cautiously approached the evil looking shadow thing and put the plate in its outstretched hands. The creature tilted its head and looked back to the counter. Church looked, and there was nothing else there but…

“Oh, for fucks sake, really? You really want my fucking chips?”

With a sigh of frustration Church grabbed the bag and upended the contents onto the plate. There were more than he expected, which bummed him out something fierce, because he was _fucking starving_ and had no idea when he would be in a position to afford food again.

The creature looked down at the plate and its toothy maw spread wider.

Church got the distinct impression it was laughing at him.

“Alright, that’s all I’ve got.”

It’s jaw fell open, like a snake eating prey, and it poured the plate of food into its mouth. The rumbling noise was louder, but the smell of burning had turned into gentle whiffs of ozone. As it chewed, it handed Church the plate back.

“Um…thanks.”

The creature swallowed and ‘grinned’ which was a sight that Church fully expected to see in his nightmares for years to come. The wisps of inky darkness that had spread from the body of the thing suddenly pulled in all at once, and in a burst of darkness, the creature disappeared.

Church looked around his suddenly very bright kitchen and blinked.

“What…the fuck…was that?”

He looked down at the plate in his hand, nothing but grease and the barest of crumbs clung to the chipped, dollar store ceramic plate. The room seemed to spin for a few moments. Church stumbled to the sink, set the plate down, and sank to the floor.

There was a fucking monster in his kitchen!

There was a fucking black smoke monster with a giant fucking mouth that looked like it could rip his head off without flinching _in his kitchen!_

And he’d _fed it!_

He shook his head, hard. Was he hallucinating? Maybe he was sick? It would have explained some of it, at least.

Church heard his phone go off in the living room. The effort it took to get back on his feet was disconcerting, and by the time he actually made it to his phone, it had long stopped ringing. The screen said the call was from Tucker.

On autopilot, Church called him back.

“Dude, Caboose just called in a fucking fit, what is this shit about you getting fired? Andy fucking _fired_ you?!”

Tucker’s voice was low and furious on the other end.

“Tucker?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Jesus, Church, are you at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, don’t fucking move. I’m coming to you, right now. I mean it, man, do not move.”

Church dropped to the floor and didn’t move.

Tucker didn’t ask Church anything after that. He babbled into the phone about girls, Caboose’s stupidity, and more girls. It was Tucker’s standard ‘I don’t want to talk about anything important, but I don’t need you to comment’ talking, that was really more for the benefit of hearing his voice than actually being part of a conversation.

The man babbled incoherently in the background while Church tried to wrap his head around what had happened.

That thing…was like a monster.

The sound of keys as they jingled in the lock was enough to break Church out of his reverie. The door burst open and Tucker was on the other side, cell phone tucked in-between his head and shoulder, with a concerned expression on his face.

Tucker’s face scrunched as he took a sniff of the air.

“Holy shit, dude! What did you do?!”

Church took the phone away from his ear, slowly, the echo of Tucker’s voice in two places at once threw him off.

“Fuck me, dude! Your place smells like you summoned a fucking demon!”

The words clicked in Church’s head.

A demon.

_It would explain the shadows. And the floating. And the giant fucking teeth. And the mouth. And the…everything else._

“Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

Tucker and Church sat on the stoop outside of his apartment building. _Former_ apartment building.

The younger of the two ranted and raved and snarled furiously while his friend stared at the ground and weakly tried to figure out how this was his life.

It hadn’t taken an hour for the smell to leak out of Church’s apartment and flood the hallway. That was all it took for management to rush over and scream at him, while Tucker tried in vain to get them to back off and calm down.

They had a strict ‘no demon summoning’ policy written in the rental contract. Contacting of any demonic entities was a case for immediate removal from the property and liability for the cost of ‘cleansing’ the entire building. They wouldn’t be allowed to enter the building to collect Church’s things until the exorcist was finished.

Tucker had tried to argue against the manager. There was no summoning circle, no sigil, and Church was clearly in shock. Surely that meant this was more than what they thought it was.

They didn’t give a shit.

Odds were that the exorcist would claim that Church’s stuff was ‘tainted’ and if that was the case, he’d never see it again. There were stories of less than scrupulous exorcists who would scam people out of their possessions and sell them online, and knowing his luck, Church’s whole apartment would be ‘infected’.

Tucker finally huffed and stopped yelling.

“Worst fucking day, ever.”

“Fuck yeah, dude. This is bullshit.”

Church shook his head.

“I don’t know what to do from here.”

Tucker frowned and shifted himself into Church’s line of sight.

“Well, first we get as much of your shit as we can carry, then we head back to my place. We’ll figure out the rest along the way.”

The apartment manager glared at them from her position near the door. Church had a feeling she would jump on them the moment they asked to go inside and get his things.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon, Buddy.”

Tucker frowned and stood.

“Fine, you’re coming to my place. When they get their shit together they can just call!”

Church allowed Tucker to pull him to his feet and throw Church’s arm over his shoulder. He didn’t think he needed that much help walking, but clearly Tucker thought he did, and since the ground shifted and slid under his feet, Church decided not to fight it.

It took them twenty minutes longer than usual to walk from Church’s little shithole to Tucker’s marginally better shithole. In that time Church had managed to vomit twice, step on Tucker’s feet four times, and have a ridiculous ugly cry. Something was seriously wrong with him.

He didn’t know what was happening in his head anymore. Everything fucking sucked and he just wanted to sleep.

Tucker managed to keep Church from puking on the both of them, like a boss, kept his footing when Church stomped on him, and rubbed his best friend’s back as he came down from the energy flux that was a sure sign of prolonged unprotected demonic interaction. The kind that happened when someone who didn’t know what they were doing summoned a demon without a circle.

Tucker knew that Church was going to be wrecked for a few hours, possibly days depending on just what the fuck he’d managed to summon.

They managed to make it inside and up the stairs before Church physically could not move any longer, and Tucker had to drag his best friend into his apartment by his feet.

“Jesus, you’ve gotten fat!”

Church snarled weakly.

“Fuck you!”

It felt like an age and a half before Tucker finally managed to get Church inside and onto his couch, but by the time Tucker managed to find a spare blanket and pillow that wasn’t crusted in…things Church would not appreciate being covered with/laying on, the other man was unconscious on the couch.

He looked pale.

Tucker camped himself out in the living room for a while, just to make sure that Church kept breathing. When Church didn’t wake up to eat on his own, Tucker woke him up and forced some lukewarm Chicken and Stars soup down his throat and let him sleep.

Church slept through the night, and well into the morning the next day, but his color was definitely better than it was the day before.

Tucker tried not to worry.

Around two in the afternoon, Church’s phone rang and the picture of Caboose’s cheesy grin lit up the screen. With a groan, Church realized that he’d managed to sleep for almost a whole day. Tucker waved at him from above, the man had decided to perch on the arm of the couch right above Church’s head, and hopped up. Church reached out and answered the phone.

If he didn’t the idiot would just keep calling.

“What do you want, Caboose?”

“Oh, Church! Hello!”

Church sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Hello, Caboose. What do you want?”

“Oh, yes, I was just…in the neighborhood…and I was wondering if you had found a new job yet.”

With an exasperated sigh, Church blew some stray hair out of his face. Caboose probably wanted Church to help him find a new job. Good fucking luck with that. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to find something for himself, and Caboose had his sisters to help him out until he could get going again. Church had Tucker, and damned if he was going to mooch off of Tucker…once he didn’t feel like he’d swallowed glass and molten metal.

“No, Caboose, I have not found a new job yet. Yesterday there was some kind of…accidental demonic summoning in my apartment.”

Caboose loudly gasped.

“Oh no! That explains all of the weird firemen wearing very scary black clothing standing around!”

Church launched himself to his feet. He swayed in place for a moment before he fell down.

“Are you outside my apartment?”

“Yes, yes, and there are lots of people here, and some of them are very angry looking. One of them threw a rock at me! I think it is like that game from when we were children, do you remember? People would follow me, and say bad words, and throw rocks and stuff.”

The other man sounded so chipper, Church didn’t have the heart to remind him that they hadn’t known each other as children…or that people trying to hurt you was not a game.

A cold feeling settled in Church’s stomach, like he’d swallowed ice cubes. Caboose was probably fine. Who would go after Caboose just because they were pissed at Church? His neighbors were assholes, sure, but they couldn’t be that bad. Who would deliberately hurt Caboose?

“Caboose, you need to leave, right now. Come to Tucker’s. I’m at Tucker’s.”

Caboose scoffed. Church couldn’t tell if the other man had started to walk away yet. For such a big guy, he walked like a fucking ninja.

“Why are you at Tucker’s apartment? His room smells like garbage and feet and old food and-“

“Caboose, I swear to god. Look, just…don’t tell anyone there that you know me. Just come to Tucker’s.”

Church heard the other man give out a long winded sigh.

“Ok, I am coming to see you at Tucker’s, even though it is gross and smells bad.”

Caboose hung up the phone. Church tried not to worry. The other man had problems in the past talking on the phone and walking in the past. As long as he got out of there, he’d be fine.

Tucker sat a microwavable bowl of Cambells tomato soup on the ground next to Church’s seat. The steam rolled off and made Church’s stomach growl unhappily.

“Church, you did _not_ just invite Caboose over, did you?”

Caboose and Tucker’s relationship was…mixed. They could work together most days without too many incidents, and there were days that they seemed to genuinely like each other. There were some days where Tucker couldn’t handle Caboose’s _Cabooseness_ , and Caboose loudly proclaimed that he hated Tucker for reasons only he understood.

Church was pretty sure that the reason Tucker insulted Caboose so often was because Caboose had hurt Tucker’s feelings, and that was why Tucker was so vehemently against him, but they didn’t talk about that kind of shit. They _were_ guys after all.

“I was afraid someone would hurt him. He’s outside my apartment, and they’re throwing fucking rocks at him.”

Tucker’s face shifted from frustration into full blown ‘holy shit’ mode.

“Jesus, what the fuck makes people think that shit’s ok? Is everyone in your building a fucking asshole?”

“Apparently. I should go get him.”

Church attempted to get off of the couch, only for Tucker to shove him right back down into the cushions with a tight grin. It was probably for the best. His legs felt weak enough, he’d have probably collapsed if Tucker hadn’t shoved him.

“Fuck that. You sit and eat your goddamned soup. I’ll go track him down. We both know that if he doesn’t have someone with him, he’s going to get himself lost and walk to fucking China. I will be back. _Stay here._ Eat the fucking Cambells, watch tv, just _do not fucking get up_.”

Tucker stormed out of the apartment, jacket in hand, and left Church on the couch.

He looked at the cup of soup Tucker had left for him, steam had stopped rising, and obediently picked it up. He was fucking starving.

There was a game of Grifball on the tv that barely caught Church’s attention, but it was enough for him to focus on as he finished his soup and laid down on the couch. He still felt like shit, hours after the event, but food definitely helped.

Church knew he should really try and figure out what he was going to do, but his head hurt, and he figured picking up the remnants of his life could wait until he’d had a nap.

 

* * *

 

Tucker led a babbling Caboose through the door and immediately shushed him.

Church had passed out again on the couch. His soup bowl was empty, and the tv was still set on the sports station Tucker had left it on when he rushed out the door.

“You’ll need to keep it quiet if you want to stay, Caboose.”

Caboose nodded.

“I will be very quiet and not wake up Church, because he is sick and needs to sleep.”

Tucker patted Caboose’s shoulder and dug out a pen and some loose paper for him. The best way to keep Caboose from destroying things and excessive noise was to keep him occupied. Luckily, Caboose loved to draw and didn’t particularly care about colors.

“Good man.”

Caboose sat down on the floor next to Church and drew on the paper. He scrunched his nose as he drew, and made sure to keep the pen from scratching the carpet, so that Tucker wouldn’t get mad and make him leave. They stayed like that for hours, Caboose with his pen, Tucker perched on the arm of the couch with his eyes focused on the screen and his mind elsewhere, and Church blissfully unconscious.

Church’s phone buzzed unpleasantly at five-thirty. Church really hated his fucking phone.

The number was unknown, but Church figured it was probably someone looking to bill him for the apartment.

“Hello, is this Mr. Church?”

The voice on the other end was a woman’s, and familiar, which just put Church on edge. Church took a deep breath.

“Yeah, yes, speaking. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Sheila. I work for the head office responsible for Blood Gulch Recreation.”

Oh, _fuck_. It was worse than he’d thought, they were probably calling to tell him he didn’t qualify for unemployment or some such bullshit.

“I’m guessing your calling about yesterday. Look-“

“Mr. Church, I have called to inform you that we have an opening in management, should you still be interested in that promotion.”

Church blinked.

“Promotion?”

“You have requested a pay raise several times in the past year, once at every quarterly review, and have been denied due to a lack of funding in your area for such an expense. I am calling to tell you that a management position in your location has been made available. This position allows for a substantial raise as well as the standard benefits package.”

Ok, so yeah, he’d begged for a raise more times than that. The quarterly reviews would probably be the only place you’d see that recorded. Every time Church asked for more, Andy would laugh in his face and tell him he wasn’t worth what they were already paying.

If it wasn’t true, Church would have gotten a new job already.

“Um, I would love that, but why me?”

“You have shown yourself to be a model employee, regularly taking on tasks not appointed to you, and going above and beyond to ensure that the employees around you as well as your coworkers are well cared for. You have experience in management. You are also still alive, and the previous manager is not.”

“What?!”

She hmmed on the other end.

“It seems that Mr…Kaboom has perished in an explosion today. Apparently there has been a surge of demonic activity in certain areas, and Mr. Kaboom was in the wrong place at the right time. We will need you to come in an hour early tomorrow to go over the paperwork for your new position.”

Jesus…

“And Caboose? Michael Caboose? Andy fired him yesterday, too.”

She hmmed again. There was the sound of paperwork as it shuffled in the background.

“May I be honest with you, Mr. Church? Mr. Kaboom did not submit any paperwork yesterday, nor has he for the past week. If you hadn’t mentioned being removed from your position, I would have never known.”

Church slapped himself on the side of the head, hard. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Sheila cleared her throat delicately.

“I am not offering to rehire you. This is a promotion. It would be a great deal of extra paperwork to fire you and rehire you. It would also make you ineligible for this promotion. I think it would be best to simply…let Mr. Caboose know that he should arrive on time tomorrow.”

Church hadn’t had much opportunity to work with Sheila, but he could already tell that he was going to like this woman.

“Sheila, you’re a goddess! This is seriously the best news I’ve gotten all day! Which…is kind of messed up, now that I think about it.”

She laughed on the other end.

“Don’t think, just come in tomorrow an hour early and we will get you started. Goodnight, Mr. Church.”

“Goodnight, Sheila.”

Caboose’s eyes were wide and a bright smile lit up his face.

“Was that Sheila? Oh, I just love her! She is so nice!”

Church grinned and ruffled Caboose’s hair.

“Yep, that was Sheila! And hey, guess what, Buddy? We’re hired again!”

“GASP! That means we get to work together! We can have lunch together! And eat ice cream together! And go for walks! And Ride Bikes! AND ALL SORTS OF OTHER THINGS!!!”

Tucker shoved Caboose with his foot.

“Shut up! My neighbors don’t want to hear you screaming!”

And that seemed to be that. Church got his pay raise, managed to collect all of his possessions from the old apartment, and got himself a new apartment in a better area that was actually less expensive than his old place. It helped that Tucker agreed to be his roommate and they could split the cost, and that the new landlord was sympathetic to his eviction due to accidental summoning.

Butch patted Church’s shoulder and grinned.

“You wouldn’t believe how often something like that happens! One minute your kid is doodling in their notebook, the next they’ve given themselves a papercut and summoned a demon! All we ask is that you keep destruction to a minimum on the summoning front, and make sure to properly vent the place once they’ve left.”

Things were finally good, for the first time in a long time.

He’d been able to actually save money for the first time in his adult life. Tucker and Church had both celebrated by buying beer and not off brand food. Caboose brought them a cactus as a housewarming present.

Church reflected as he stretched out in his bed that his life was pretty good, bizarre, but good.

Then Church smelled smoke.

Panicked that his new place was about to burn down ( _and wouldn’t that just be his fucking luck!_ ), Church ran into the kitchen, only to see the black floating figure…hovering in front of his fridge.

Church shrieked.

“Jesus Christ!”

The creature (the DEMON!!!) whipped around and made a noise like the cross between a tiger snarling and a foghorn. Its orange eyes flashed red, and its wispy, shadowy form grew larger. Church got the impression he’d startled it.

“Sorry! Sorry! I wasn’t expecting you! I was expecting a house fire!”

The creature made another noise, less abrasive than the last one, but not a sound Church could really pinpoint. It was low pitched, kind of rumbly, maybe pleased?

“So um…you’re here because?”

It pointed to the fridge.

“You’re…hungry? Fuck me. Seriously? This is what this shit is all about?”

Church stormed over to the fridge, and yanked the door open.

“Same as last time?”

The creature made a low grumbling noise, but didn’t give any body language to indicate a yes or a no.

“Well shit, it’s not like I can understand you anyway.”

Church fixed the demon a sandwich, grabbed it some chips, and handed it the plate. It didn’t have ass ends, cheap bologna, or off brand anything on it. His chips were also not greasy and disgusting. There was nothing in Church’s mind quite like being able to buy food and have it not be complete garbage.

The demon unhinged its jaw again (and that was still the stuff of nightmares, dear fucking god…), and dumped the contents into its mouth.

The smell of ozone was not nearly as overpowering this time around. It was almost nice, which, _super_ weird.

“So, if you’re going to just be showing up and demanding food all the time, what should I call you?”

He knew better than to ask for the demon’s name. That was the kind of shit that got you eaten or forced into servitude. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have _something_ to call it when it broke in.

The demon swallowed, then snarled and gnashed its’ teeth. It sounded _fucking pissed!_ Church backed up against the kitchen counter, well aware that he had no where to run to, and threw his hands over his face.

“Ok! Sorry! Didn’t mean to piss you off!”

It put the plate down on the counter, craned forward, and snarled and gnashed again, this time slower. Its sounds were more deliberate.

“Um…are you…telling me your name?”

It nodded.

“Shit, man, your language is fucking terrifying! Also, I am not calling you growling noises.”

It squared its shoulders, made an exaggerated noise, and crowded up close to Church. The black ethereal face was very, very close to Church’s, and he could see that the teeth were slightly serrated. It made the noise again, this time quietly, and stared Church in the eye expectantly.

“Fuck! Jesus! Ok, it sounds like…teahgsush. I’m…just gonna call you Tex. Seems like the closest I’m gonna be able to get without dislocating my jaw. Sound good?”

The demon gave a toothy grin that could have meant anything, and then it disappeared into nothing.

“Well, fuck me.”

Church could have thrown a fit. He could have collapsed in fear. Instead, he opened the windows around the apartment, and called Tucker to let him know he’d used the last of his lunch meat to feed the demon…who would probably make itself comfortable now that it knew Church was willing to feed it.

“Dude, you are so fucking whipped!”

“Hey, fuck you, Tucker! Would you say no to a demon that can _eat your fucking face off in one bite?!_ ”

Tucker just laughed at him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a random writing post I found, and the idea of summoning a demon with a sandwich was just so funny to me I had to do it. I am well aware that this is probably not the best constructed story ever, but if I didn't get it off my computer and onto the internet it would have just sat there and mocked me.
> 
> And yes, Tex is a demon. I felt that was appropriate in this case.


End file.
